


Sweet Nothing

by Reijin_Hakumei



Category: Bleach
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Winter War (Bleach), Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reijin_Hakumei/pseuds/Reijin_Hakumei
Summary: Excerpt:Golden eyes watched as his King tried to recover himself, as he forced himself to continue home. He was breaking. Soul Society had abandoned him completely, the shinigami did not even bother to check up on him. They could have, he wouldn’t have known, or even better, they could have visited. The former captain turned exiled shop keeper was not stingy with his gigai. But not a single one had been by to see his King.And now a year has passed......The Old Man was silent now, and he hadn’t seen him in months. To where he had faded, he had no idea, but he refused to abandon his King. The Old Man had forbidden him from reaching out to him, said King needed to learn to live without them, that seeing them would only hurt him…What did that old fool know? King was breaking...And he couldn't just watch it happen anymore.
Relationships: Hollow Ichigo | Zangetsu & Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 101
Collections: ShiroIchi Week 2020 (Oct. 18-24)





	Sweet Nothing

**Sweet Nothing**

* * *

_ You took my heart and you held it in your mouth and with a word all my love came rushing out… Every whisper, it's the worst, emptied out by a single word…  _

* * *

“King.”

Ichigo turned his head, dark amber eyes searching desperately…

Nothing…

Nothing there…

He tried to shake it off, tried to move forward… 

And yet tears still gathered even as he managed to hold in a sob, silently falling with every blink, eyelashes damp, icing, and uncomfortable…

So he quickly wiped his eyes with his long sleeve, feet now dragging through soft snow as he forced himself to continue home… 

Winter…

_ Again…  _

Last winter he had never felt more a part of something…

This winter…

…This winter… 

…He had never felt so alone… 

* * *

_ …There is a hollow in me now…  _

* * *

Golden eyes watched as his King tried to recover himself, as he forced himself to continue home. He was breaking. Soul Society had abandoned him completely, the shinigami did not even bother to check up on him. They could have, he wouldn’t have known, or even better, they could have  _ visited. _ The former captain turned exiled shop keeper was not stingy with his gigai. But not a single one had been by to see his King. 

And now a year has passed.

At first, at least King’s human friends had attempted to still include him. However, as the months passed, they drifted further and further apart. They didn’t talk about their adventures anymore, seeing the sadness it brought to King’s eyes, the false laugh he emitted when he claimed he was glad that he wasn’t involved with any of that anymore.

How much of a bother it had been…

But his friends could tell what he was really saying…

He couldn’t stand it… 

Not being able to help them… 

How much of a burden he was now…

The Old Man was silent now, and he hadn’t seen him in months. To where he had faded, he had no idea, but he refused to abandon his King. The Old Man had forbidden him from reaching out to him, said King needed to learn to live without them, that seeing them would only hurt him…

What did that old fool know? King was breaking... 

And he couldn't just watch it happen anymore.

* * *

_ So I put my faith in something unknown…  _

* * *

Dark amber eyes fluttered open only to blink rapidly at the rain that met them. Rain? But it was too cold for rain… The sky above was dark, overcast, and he found his hand slipping on smooth glass as he attempted to sit up and duck his head away from the rain.

What? Glass…

His eyes widened as he realized where he was. He had been laying atop one of the many sideways skyscrapers that dominated the landscape of his inner world. How was this even possible? He…

He was powerless…

So how could he possibly be here?

“King.”

Ichigo turned his head, dark amber eyes searching desperately…

And alighted upon the form of his inner hollow. He looked exactly as he had the last time he had seen him, long white hair, golden irises glowing from black sclera, but his expression… He'd never seen his hollow look so unsure of himself… 

"Zangetsu?”

The hollow chuckled, “That name doesn’t seem quite right anymore, does it? Never fit right anyway, if I’m honest. I’m more than a mere Zanpakuto afterall, right King? Besides, ya called the Old Man that for so long, let ‘im ‘ave it. I don’t need no name.”

Ichigo reached for him, the action desperate as he stated, “This is a dream.”

The hollow knelt next to him, interlacing Ichigo’s outstretched fingers with his own, dark amber eyes widening upon feeling the other’s tight hold.

“It is King?”

“Has to be…” Ichigo whispered. Tears fell from his eyes even as the rain made it impossible to tell… But the hollow knew; he could feel his desperate hope, feel his relief at seeing him war with his despair that this really was  _ only _ a dream.

The hollow smiled, and though such a thing should have been terrifying, to Ichigo it was the most beautiful sight he’d seen in such a long time…

“Has to be,” the Hollow echoed. “So then come here, allow me to hold ya King. Ya deserve some peace, at least in yer dreams.”

The hollow pulled gently and Ichigo allowed the motion, allowed himself to be drawn into the other’s arms, allowed him to wrap so tightly around him that the rain barely touched him…

“You always hated the rain,” Ichigo whispered.

“I hate the  _ reason _ for the rain,” the hollow murmured back, the scream that underlined his voice more comforting than Ichigo could have ever imagined.

He simply held him, and Ichigo simply  _ allowed _ himself to be held. Slowly, his silent tears subsided…

And so did the rain… 

* * *

_ I'm tired of hope with nothing to hold…  _

* * *

Ichigo was doing far better in school than he ever had before. His grades had always been good but now he has even exceeded Ishida in certain subjects. His teachers were happy, of course, praising him for taking his studies seriously and for attending classes consistently for the past year. Really though…

Really he was just keeping himself busy so he didn’t have to think about what was missing…

And everything -  _ everyone _ \- he had lost as a result…

When he wasn’t consumed with work, he found himself sleeping. His family was worried about him, that he was missing meals. When one of his sisters went to get him, they tentatively opened the door to his room, finding him sound asleep and nearly impossible to awaken. His father told them to just let him have his rest, that he was working through a lot, and so Yuzu simply started leaving his food upon the desk next to his bed. She would come back in a few hours to check in on him again… Sometimes it was eaten, sometimes it wasn't, but almost every time her brother was sleeping again when she retrieved the plate.

He wasn’t really tired though, school wasn’t that exhausting when you had nothing else to occupy your time other than study. He wasn’t behind, and he paid so close attention in class to keep his thoughts from wondering that he needed very little revision.

And yet, he’d become addicted to sleep… 

Because it was the only way…

The only way to see him…

To be with him…

* * *

_ And it's hard to learn… And it's hard to love…  _

* * *

“Why do I only dream of you now?”

“‘Cause I’m all ya want to dream about, King.”

His King snuggled deeper into his embrace, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent, “I’ve never been able to control my dreams before… And this seems so  _ real.” _

The sky was still overcast but it no longer rained, and he was sure now that he was doing the right thing in pulling King to him every time he fell asleep. He hadn’t lied, he was in King’s mind, and this was the only dream King wanted to have, was why he continued to drift asleep even when his body had no need for it. How could he possibly deny him? His King was slowly recovering from the deep depression he’d fallen into. Perhaps this wasn’t the healthiest way but there weren't many other options. 

His King was cut off from being able to use his power, his body’s ability to channel the reiatsu damaged by wielding far more than it could handle, shredding those channels completely and draining his well of Reiryoku to that of a normal human’s. And with the channels so damaged, he wasn’t able to refill that well within him - which would be necessary to pull from to heal the channels. A catch 22, really. Unless the well of Reiryoku was directly filled through some other method, his King would never regain the ability to wield his powers again.

That meant, in a very real way, that he was also powerless. He didn’t have power of his own, only King’s, but his existence within him wasn’t merely the manifestation of his powers as it was with normal Shinigami.

He had always been with King. He’d been with him when he was a happy, smiling child, when he lost his wonderfully loving mother, when he started keeping his pain inside and his smiles became false and forced, when he fought with the world around him just because he didn’t quite fit in… Always, always he had watched over his King. For most of that time, he went unnoticed, and he had been content with that. But King knew of his existence now, and though their path together had been rocky and fraught with misunderstandings, he’d been given something he’d never thought he’d receive…

…love.

His King loved him, the reasons why were varied and many, but it wasn’t something he could hide from a being that shared his body and mind. The hollow didn’t know if what he felt could be considered love - his King was his entire world. He literally would not exist without him and his safety, wellbeing,  _ happiness, _ meant  _ everything _ to him. 

Was that love?

If it wasn’t, it was all he had to offer…

He’d protect his King, save him from himself if he had to, be whatever he needed him to be. He needed no further purpose beyond that. And if he could make his King happy, actually bring sun to their shared inner world, he knew that would be his greatest accomplishment. 

The hollow caressed his King’s sunset orange hair, his breath hitching as the other continued to nuzzle into his neck and breath in his scent. He never could deny him anything, especially concerning his happiness. And he was slowly realizing that, as his King began to desire him - even if he wasn’t quite aware yet that he did - he began to  _ desire _ his King in return, that he wanted to be the  _ reason _ he was happy. 

He gathered his courage, bolstered by the feeling of peace and gentle growing pleasure that his King always drifted to when within his arms, and asked, “Do ya want this to be real?”

* * *

_ It isn't easy for me to let it go cause I've swallowed every single word and every whisper, every sigh, eats away this heart of mine… _

* * *

Ichigo sighed against him, feeling his hollow tremble slightly as the breath ghosted across his collar bone, causing Ichigo to smile in fondness. Did he want this to be real? “I must want that,” Ichigo said softly, his breath as he spoke causing more shivers from the hollow that held him so tightly against him. “Why else would I spend all my available free time wanting to fall back asleep, to be here, with you…”

“King…” his hollow whimpered out at his words and Ichigo found himself fascinated at his responses. His lips tentatively pressed against his hollow’s throat and the other keened quietly, tilting up his neck further in response, his shivering intensifying at his touch.

“You need a name,” Ichigo murmured, lips still brushing against the sensitive skin of his hollow’s bared throat. “I want to have a name to call you…”

His hollow tensed slightly around him before relaxing again as Ichigo ran his fingers lightly along his sides and around to trace the muscles of his back. “Whatever my King desires…” his hollow hissed out and Ichigo smiled as he further melted around him at his touch upon his back. 

Ichigo thought about it deeply, still tracing the muscles along his hollow’s back, still pressing light kisses against his throat, still enjoying the tremors and light whining sounds the other issued at both actions. He was holding onto him tightly, those black nails pressing slightly into lower abs and back from where he clutched him secure in his lap. It was how they often sat together now, his hollow gently tugging him down across his lap and leaning him into his hold as soon as he appeared within this place… 

A name was something very personal. His hollow had already rejected being called Zangetsu, although that was certainly a part of who he was. He was also  _ more. _ Far more than a mere blade, far more than only his power… As Ichigo thought about it deeply, as his hollow submitted to his touch, he also found himself connecting to him in a way he never had before. He could  _ feel _ him, the desire that burned through him at Ichigo’s every press against his skin, the want to please him, to make him happy, the  _ need _ to serve him and feel his love, to be his entire focus, to hear his name whispered from his King’s lips in pleasure… 

White… He had been called that once, a long, long time ago. The first name he’d been given. But there was a lot of pain, anger, and despair wrapped up in that name. Ichigo couldn’t tell why or what happened, but he could  _ feel _ it from his hollow, painful memories just below the surface that Ichigo felt no desire to force him to relive.

Perhaps White was too raw of a name but it was the only one his hollow truly identified as his own; it was clear, his mind utterly open to his King in this moment. Perhaps a derivative would be acceptable to him? White was English which was honestly a bit odd, considering Ichigo was Japanese. His hollow must have had a life before he became a part of him, to have such a foreign name. 

But he was  _ Ichigo’s _ now. 

“Shiro.”

His hollow tensed again, his voice trembling as he responded, “King?”

Ichigo smiled, looking up into his beautiful golden eyes, softened by desire and submission. “Your name. Your name is Shiro. That’s what I’ll call you. If I am your King, then I have that right, yes?”

“Shiro,” Shiro breathed out, “your Shiro…”

Ichigo was amazed at the emotions he could feel from his hollow, the walls breaking down between them completely as his hollow accepted his name, submitted to him completely as his King, accepting Ichigo’s power over him. Shiro was such a strong, wild thing, it was humbling to see. And it thrilled Ichigo in a way he’d never felt before. Such a powerful being, completely his and his alone, subject to his will to do anything he wanted with.  _ Anything. _ Shiro would let him, he knew that now, the hollow no longer held any secrets, no barrier between their minds.

And he  _ wanted _ him. Desperately. Ichigo’s touch was driving him mad with lust, an emotion the hollow wasn’t used to dealing with, as Ichigo hadn’t really felt the emotion all that strongly himself. But Shiro didn’t think it was his place to act on it and was unsure how his King would receive his advances. So he clutched at him instead, holding himself back and slowly sunk deeper into the pleasure that Ichigo was giving him without really realizing. He was so open to him like this, so receptive… Ichigo lightly ran his own nails down Shiro’s back, over his spine, and his hollow immediately arched into him, black nails pressing further as his grip tightened on him but so careful not to injure. 

“This isn’t a dream, is it, Shiro?”

Shiro tensed again, holding him tightly to him.

“Shiro?” Ichigo questioned gently.

“No, King, this isn’t a dream.”

Ichigo reached his hand up to pet his long white hair, fingers threading through the strands. “How?”

“Ya needed me,” Shiro whispered, leaning his head into Ichigo’s touch as he continued to pet his hair in a comforting motion.

Ichigo smiled warmly. He supposed it really was that simple. Shiro wasn’t able to lie to him, not now, not connected like this.

“And what do you need, Shiro?”

His hollow’s glazed golden eyes found his own deep amber, his voice rough with need and sharp with that underlying scream as he said, “King… yer all I need…”

Ichigo pulled slightly at the long hair within his grasp, closing the gap between their mouths and kissing his hollow gently. Shiro whined, the sound utterly broken and desperate, and Ichigo felt a rush of his own desire flood through him. He had never kissed anyone before - and obviously, neither had his hollow. The sensation crashed through them both, emotions passing between their connected minds, feeding back on one another until Ichigo found himself pressing harder, Shiro utterly shaking around him as he continued to hold himself back. 

“It’s alright Shiro,” Ichigo whispered against their still connected lips, “I trust you. Let go.”

Shiro moaned deeply, his long tongue immediately sweeping into Ichigo’s parted mouth, and Ichigo found himself being lowered upon the glass of a sideways skyscraper. He was so lost in the feeling of Shiro mapping out every part of his mouth with that long tongue that he didn’t really register his legs being parted and Shiro settling between them until he felt the other’s hard length against his own, causing him to arch up into his hollow with his own desperate groan. 

“Shiro,” Ichigo gasped breathlessly, “Want you Shiro, need you so much…”

“King, I’m here, please King, let me serve ya…”

Ichigo groaned at the request as he gasped out, “Yes Shiro, please…”

He didn’t really know what he was asking for, had never really thought about physical pleasure and what that might entail, but he was drowning and he had no desire to be rescued from this sea of pleasure - only wanting to sink deeper.

* * *

_ …And there is a hollow in me now…  _

* * *

With only a thought there was no longer the thin barrier of clothing between their skin, both moaning into each other’s mouths at the smooth sensation of warm skin against skin. Shiro had a name now, a real name, one given out of love from someone that truly wanted him. Not something he had to share with another, but his  _ own. _ And his King, his beautiful, loving King, had accepted him, was allowing him to serve him as they both so desperately wanted.

He just had to figure out exactly how to do that. 

King had no experience to draw from and Shiro’s experience was limited to his own… So he was left to simply watching and feeling his King’s responses to what he was doing. King had a vague idea of how a man and woman were meant to do this… But how would he possibly connect with him in that way? And King wanted him to, wanted to be Shiro’s as much as Shiro was already his, to feel him deep inside of him… Could he possibly still take him that way? Would such a thing actually feel good?

Shiro’s fingers found the only hole available for such a thing and lightly prodded it. His King arched into him, whining at the sensation and Shiro shuddered at the feeling that echoed to him through their open bond. So King liked being touched there… He tried pressing inside and Ichigo cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Shiro frowned. He didn’t want to hurt him at all… How could he make sure this didn’t hurt his King?

He grinned wickedly as a thought occurred to him, traveling quickly down his King’s panting body, his tongue following the lines of his muscles, down the V-line of his hips, past his aching cock and raised him slightly to lick at that small hole. Ichigo cried out again, but there was no pain this time as Shiro eased his long tongue inside. So that was the problem before, he’d been too dry and the friction had been painful. 

Shiro did his best to thoroughly soak his hole with his saliva, his long tongue reaching far inside of him. Ichigo was writhing, thrashing against the glass, panting out, “Yes Shiro, more Shiro, you feel so good inside of me, need you so much, please…”

Shiro attempted a finger again and this time it easily slid to the knuckle, the way now slick and his King pressed back into it, his sounds becoming even more desperate. His King wanted him, he wanted him  _ now, _ and as much as Shiro wanted the same, he also could never truly hurt him. So he worked his finger inside of him, stretching him, his sharp mind understanding that such an action would make taking his cock easier and, hopefully, painless for his King.

He added a second finger after several long minutes, his King still writhing upon the glass, his deep amber eyes almost black they were so dilated in pleasure. He dared not touch his cock… His King was barely hanging on and he knew he would come as soon as he did. Shiro wasn’t certain he’d remain asleep through such a thing and he was desperate to give his King what he truly wanted. 

He worked his fingers in deeper, stretching, curling within, and all of a sudden his King gave an utterly broken cry and Shiro groaned as his echoed pleasure raced through him. Shiro panted, not really understanding what had happened, and moved his fingers again causing the same reaction. 

His King had tears leaking from his eyes he was so lost in pleasure and Shiro couldn’t take it anymore, especially after that assault on his own senses. He spat on his hand, combining his own saliva with the precum that had been leaking, unnoticed, slicking himself as much as he could before climbing back over his King, the tip of his cock brushing against his prepared entrance and his King pushing his hips towards him almost purely out of instinct. 

His King’s mind was so empty, he was completely overloaded with pleasure, but Shiro knew what he desperately wanted. He kissed him deeply as he breached him, his King stiffening beneath him at the stretch before relaxing almost instantly, Shiro’s pleasure eoching to him even as his King’s slight pain echoed to Shiro. He took his slowly, a bit more with each time he relaxed, thrusting gently until he was completely seated within his King. 

Shiro paused, panting, completely overwhelmed with the sensation of filling and the echo of being filled from their open bond. This was far more intense than anything he’d ever experienced before and it took everything he had not to instantly come within his King’s tight heat.

“Shiro…” his King whispered brokenly. He wanted him to move. Shiro tried to calm himself a bit, as hopeless as that action was, and moved within him, a smooth pull out and thrust back in. 

They both cried out and again Shiro had to still himself before he lost himself to pleasure. 

“King,” Shiro whispered desperately, “King, I need ya to hurt me…”

“Shiro?” came the utterly wrecked voice beneath him, not understanding the request at all. 

“Claw down my back, bite my neck,  _ anything, _ but I can’t do this without a bit of pain, ya feel too good King…”

He must have understood because sharp teeth were against his shoulder, biting hard enough to bleed, and Shiro managed to thrust this time without having to immediately force down an orgasm. “That’s right King, fuck ya feel so good…” Shiro panted, beginning to thrust within him and finding a rhythm that had them both moaning. 

The pain was helping him not be utterly lost to the pleasure, but he knew it wasn’t going to last for long. His King felt amazing, tight and hot around him, his body welcoming him as if he belonged there, but on top of that he was getting the echo of what his King was feeling, the feeling of being filled was just as incredible and it left Shiro shaking. And then Shiro managed to strike that place within him dead on and no amount of pain could stop the overwhelming pleasure that assaulted him from his King’s side of their bond. 

He screamed, his hollow voice terrible and warbled, as he thrust desperately into his King, hitting that place within him and throwing them both over the edge…

To collapse, shaking, utterly spent and with a whine in the back of his throat as black nails scratched into the glass beneath him, whimpering at the echoed feeling of despair and abandonment he felt from his King… 

* * *

_ And it's not enough to tell me that you care when we both know the words are empty air…  _

_ You give me nothing…  _

_ …Nothing… _

* * *

…Nothing…

There was nothing here…

His Shiro, his beautiful Shiro wasn’t here…

Ichigo was dropping into a deep feeling of abandonment and depression, desperately reaching out and grasping nothing. He was crying, he couldn’t stop the tears. He must have woken up, his orgasm had affected his real body and pulled him from his inner world. He knew, Shiro would never willingly abandon him, and yet here he was…

...alone…

...again.

He curled into himself, uncaring about how messy and damp he felt within his sweatpants, hugging his pillow tightly to his chest. He just wanted Shiro, wanted him desperately, wanted to feel his arms wrapped around him and be pulled into his hard, solid chest…

“King.”

Ichigo turned his head, dark amber eyes searching desperately…

“Shiro,” he breathed out, reaching desperately for the form of his inner hollow. Shiro smiled, a terrible, broken thing, hand extended as he also reached out…

And Ichigo’s hand passed through his…

“I can’t manifest, King,” Shiro whispered, an apology thick within his tone. “We have no power. I can convince yer mind to see and hear me because of the bond we share, but not strong enough to feel me… At least not here…”

Ichigo withdrew his hand but his expression had cleared a bit. Shiro needed him, needed to know his King would be okay. His pain hurt them both, Ichigo knew that now. This would have to be enough then, at least, until he dropped back into dreams. Then he could really hold him…

“My Shiro, come here,” Ichigo said softly, patting the side of the bed as he laid back down. Shiro approached, laying down next to him, his long white hair beautiful as it caught the moonlight.

“Thank you, Shiro,” Ichigo whispered, warm amber eyes gazing fondly into uncertain gold. “Thank you for not leaving me.”

“I could never leave ya, King. Yer my entire world,” Shiro whispered back. 

Ichigo smiled, the expression faltering as he requested, “Stay with me?”

“Always, King,” Shiro promised, “Awake, asleep, I’ll always be with ya. I promise.”

Ichigo relaxed into the bed, Shiro humming a tune so that Ichigo was sure the other was still there even though he wasn’t able to feel him. 

And eventually sleep reclaimed his mind…

And warm, strong arms held him tight in a gentle embrace… 


End file.
